


Strange Things Will Happen - Book the Second

by so_get_this



Series: Strange Things Will Happen [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Good luck with the feels, John Winchester is an absolute doucheface, M/M, Oh god there's so much angst, Seriously he is and I'm sorry, and there is kind of happiness sometimes, but a whole load of angst, there are a lot of feels, there is also some fluff, these are like the slowest to start relationships ever and I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-10-05
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:05:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 20
Words: 12,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_get_this/pseuds/so_get_this
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of the Strange Things Will Happen saga.<br/>DO NOT read this story unless you have read Part One. It will not make sense. But please do go ahead and read that one and then come back and read this one :)<br/>Just your standard high school au with Dean being a muppet and in love with Cas. Also, Gabe and Sam are also in love. They're all really really geeky, because like I'm super geeky too, so yeah, that happened. There is a lot of pain in this fic, and for that I apologise, but if it makes you feel better I cried at least once per chapter sooo...<br/>Also, I suck at summaries.<br/>I will be updating like every day or every few days; once a week at most. If there's too long between chapters, message me and I'll put up the next.<br/>I haven't actually written all of this fic, so there may be a little while between updates sometimes, but hopefully it won't be too long :) Readers fuel my writing so please read and kudos and review! I dearly love constructive criticism so please take the time to write just a little something :)<br/>Title comes from the amazaling song Strange Things Will Happen by The Radio Dept. which was part of the soundtrack for TFiOS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It begins here. It begins in this moment. It begins in this ending.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nizzy01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nizzy01/gifts).



Cas and I head home after the movie, still talking animatedly. It was just your standard zombie apocalypse movie, but it was very funny and the special effects were awesome. I offer to walk him home but he says that he’s got an hour or two until his curfew and could he come round mine? Of course I agree; I know that Mum won’t mind and I’m not going to be the one to turn down spending time with Cas.

When we get home I see an unfamiliar car in the drive. Cas looks at me questioningly, and I just shrug. I assume that it must be one of Mum’s friends from her book group or something - they’re always coming round. But when we walk into the kitchen I see Charlie’s Mum, Gertie, sitting with her head buried in her hands, sobbing violently. 

“Dean!” Mum exclaims, relief clearly evident on he face, “thank god you’re here”

“What’s going on, Mum?” I ask, shakily. Gertie is one of the strongest people I know and the only time I’ve even seen her vaguely fazed by anything is when her husband walked out 3 years ago. If she’s crying this must be big, and I’m scared. Mum only looks over at Gertie and bites her lip.

“Mrs Winchester, could you please explain to us what’s happened? We might be able to help.” Cas says soothingly. He has always been very good at that.

“It’s… It’s Charlie,” Mum replies softly, and with those words my whole world comes crashing down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm starting with some pain, because I know how you all love being emotionally compromised :P  
> Please review/kudos :)  
> Thanks for reading! :) xx


	2. Ignorance truly is bliss

“It’s… It’s Charlie,” Mum replies softly.

“What happened to her? Is she okay?”

“She was in a crash, Dean, a couple of hours ago. She’s in hospital in a coma and her doctor says it’s not looking good.”

No no no no no, Charlie, please no, not now when it was just starting to go so right for you, not ever because you’re my best friend and I need you.

“Why was she driving then?” I demand, shakily. “Surely she should have been at home?”

Mum shakes her head sadly, “she had to serve detention.” 

For a instant I pass this off as a terrible, terrible mistake. Ignorance truly is bliss. And then suddenly I can’t breathe, my lungs tightening and heart aching as I remember exactly why she had to serve detention. _This is all my fault._ I turn and run out of the room and upstairs, slamming my bedroom door shut, collapsing on the bed.  _Oh god oh god oh god Charlie I’m so sorry it’s all my fault oh god Charlie._

“Dean?” Cas says tentatively from behind me. I twist my head to look at him angrily.

“Just go away, Cas.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” he replies gently.

“It was!” I scream back. “I’m the one who wasn’t paying attention in class, I’m the one who messed up, I should have been at that detention. She only said it was her so that we could still go see that stupid fucking movie. _It should have been me._ ”

Cas doesn’t say another word, just walks over and sits next to me, placing one arm round my shoulder and holding me tight. We sit there for a long time, long enough to see our shadows lengthen and the sun paint the room in reds and golds, colours that seem at odds with the crashing emptiness that has settled in my chest. I cannot wait for night to come. I feel something wet drip onto my bare arm and look up to see that he is crying silently, his shoulders not even shaking, or maybe just shaking in sync with my own.

“I only have two close friends in this whole world, Dean, and she was one of them. What do I do now?”

He sounds so lost, so broken, that I reach out to place my hand over his. 

“You’ve still got me.”

And Cas nods, as though this is actually some consolation. Because why would he want me? I as good as killed her.

Even so, Cas doesn’t want to leave, and if I’m honest I don’t want him to either, so Mum pushes my bed to one side and sets up a mattress on the floor of my room. We sit on it, side by side, until morning comes. Neither of us try to sleep, we know we won’t be able to. I’m finding it hard to wrap my head around what’s happened. Charlie has always been so bubbly, so vibrant, that it seems impossible for her to have just _stopped_. But stopped she has, and tomorrow (or is it now today?) we will see how broken she is.

 

* * *

 

After breakfast, or rather after sitting at the kitchen table without eating for half an hour, we go to visit her at the hospital. The nurse says that sometimes coma patients respond if talked to by people they know, and that even if she can’t hear us, it can’t hurt. So Cas chatters on about everything and nothing. I can’t speak. Charlie has a cut running down her face, down her nose and across her lips, the scar tissue already starting to form. The beeping of her life support machine mingles with Cas’s voice until I can hardly tell them apart; his words are keeping her alive as much as they are. I cannot speak, not even a simple yes or no when Cas directs a question my way. All I can do is hold her hand and listen. I wish she could just open her eyes and smile. I wish I could shout and scream. I wish I could run and run and run until my legs ache and every breath hurts and I’m far enough away to forget her. I wish that we could swap places. I wish I was anywhere but here, but I wouldn’t leave here if you paid me. 

Eventually visiting hours are over and so I replace Charlie’s hand with Cas’s and we walk home. He is silent, tired from talking, and I still cannot find any words.


	3. From this moment, something will never be the same.

“Hey Charlie. Cas couldn’t come today, I’m sorry. He’s really sick, just flu, but he can’t even get out of bed. So it’s just me.”

I rub the back of my head, trying desperately to think of something to say. And then suddenly I know, suddenly the words flow off my tongue in a way they never could before.

“Charlie. I’m sorry you went to that detention for me, I’m sorry you were driving home, I’m sorry that idiot was drunk. If I could go back in time, if I could swap my life for yours I would. I swear I would. Sometimes I wish I was dead, but that feels selfish. Like, what gives me the right to throw away my life when you don’t get to live yours? So don’t you worry, I never would. I think Cas is hurting as much as I am, but he’s hiding it better. He’s fighting it better. That’s why it’s always been him talking; I just didn’t have words that were as good as his. But now I think I might.

“Losing you has been the hardest thing I’ll ever go through, even if you do end up waking up. Please wake up. But it’s okay if you don’t, it’s okay if you can’t. I think we might just be okay. And if we aren’t, well, we’ll be not okay together. Me and Cas. We’ve got each other and you’ve got no one, and that makes me sad. But I don’t pity you, because I know how much you’d hate that. I just feel sad. 

“If you don’t make it, I’m going to be strong. Strong for Cas. Strong for Sammy and Gabe. Strong for you. Because if you’re not here then they’ll need me more than ever. And I know that maybe you will be okay, but it’s been months now, Charlie, and I think if you were coming back you’d be here by now. I’m not giving up on you though; I know you’re a fighter, I know you won’t ever give in.

“You were right, by the way, about Cas. Of course you were, you always were. Always are. I’m in love with him, completely utterly in love, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be brave enough to admit it to him but for you I can try to be.”

I’m crying now, salty tears running their course down my face. Finally being able to truly cry is such a relief, like a storm coming after weeks of high pressure. 

I stay there, my hand clutching at hers, until the nurse shoos me away. I place one final kiss on her forehead, feeling that this will be the last time I see her like this. I don’t think I’ll ever know which of us has changed, but something has shifted. Something will never be the same.


	4. All over the world you can hear the shattering of readers' hearts.

Mum comes into my room just after dawn breaks, just as I’ve finally crawled into bed in the hopes of getting some sleep.

“Dean,” she says. “Oh, Dean, it’s Charlie.” And she doesn’t even have to say it, I just know.

I black out. And when I wake up she’s still dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible and awful person. I apologise.   
> And therefore I'm putting up the next chapter later on today, in an attempt to make up for it.  
> Again, I apologise.  
> Please review! :) xx


	5. Not flying but falling, not swimming but sinking, not waving but drowning.

She crashed late last night. The Doctors did all they could. I’m so sorry.

These three sentences keep whirling round in my head. She’s all I can think about. How I didn’t do anything to help her, didn’t do anything to save her. I feel so useless, so worthless. I miss her so utterly that it’s a wonder I can find the time to remember to breathe. It’s a wonder I even bother. What’s the point, after all, in a life without her?

I lie there in bed until Mum leaves me. I am glad when she does. I need to be alone. 

Even so, when Cas arrives an hour later I do not send him away. I cannot.

“Dean,” Cas says, his voice managing to wobble even in just the single syllable of my name.

“Cas,” I reply, my voice an echo of his. 

And then he is in my arms and I can feel the soft press of his chest against mine, of his hair under my chin. I lean my head down so my mouth is touching his forehead. Not kissing, just touching. He shudders once, and then we are both crying, great sobs that shake our world only a little less than she did.

“It hurts,” he whispers, and oh, how my chest aches.

“Me too,” I choke out.

“Why her?” he asks. I have no answer.

Even once our bodies have run out of tears to shed we do not move. Cannot move. Only his arms around my waist, and mine around his, keep us anchored here. I can’t put into words how I would feel if he were to let go, but I know without a doubt that it would hurt. Please don’t make me lose him too. Not now. Not ever.

We are not flying but falling, not swimming but sinking, not waving but drowning.


	6. Funerals aren't for the living.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update is a little later on in the day, have been super busy! And anyway, it's like quadruple the length of all the other chapters, so I hope you'll forgive me!  
> Please kudos/review! :)

Cas nearly doesn’t make it to the funeral. Mum is taking Sammy over to Charlie’s house early to help her mum set up, so it falls to me to give Cas a lift over to the church. When I arrive at his house, Gabe opens the door and solemnly leads me upstairs. 

“He won’t leave his room,” Gabe whispers to me outside his room, “and I think he might be crying.”

Cas is lying on his bed, facing the wall. “Good luck,” is all Gabe whispers to me before he touches  Cas’s shoulder briefly, and leaves.

“I do not think I can do this, Dean,” Cas whispers once the door has shut behind Gabe.

“You can, Cas, please, you have to. It’s your last proper chance to say goodbye to her.”

“I have already been sick twice this morning,” he comments mildly, in the same way as you would talk about the weather.

“Oh, Cas…” I place my hand on the small of his back softly, “It’s going to be okay.” 

“What if I can’t do it, Dean? What if I can’t sit there for the whole time? What if I have to leave?”

“I’ll come after you, so it’ll be both of us leaving.”

He stays facing the wall, but I feel him move towards me a little as my hand continues to rub circles into his back. I start to panic myself. I need him there, I need him next to me.

“Cas, please,” I whisper. “I can’t do this without you.”

He turns towards me then, blue eyes burning into mine. His face goes slightly pale but then he nods slowly and pulls himself up. I help him find a smart pair of trousers and an ironed shirt, then go sit in the corridor while he changes.

“Dean?” he calls out to me.

“Yeah?” I reply, already on my feet and halfway through the door. He is holding a tie, a confused frown etched across his face.

“Can you tie this for me?” His hands are shaking just as badly as mine.

“Sure, Cas,” I reply, like it’s no big deal, like he has nothing to be ashamed of.

My fingers loop the tie round the back of his neck, fingers deftly pulling the fabric into a knot that I loosen slightly before straightening his jacket and picking a piece of fluff off the lapel.

“Very smart,” I say.

“You too,” he replies, quietly, then I lead the way downstairs to where Gabe is waiting.

 

* * *

 

Cas and I sit in the front row of a room that is half-full but feels half-empty. As I fight the urge to squirm uncomfortably in my suit I can’t help but think that this isn’t what Charlie would have wanted. She would have wanted us to get dressed up in cosplay and sit down to watch the entirety of Lord of the Rings or something equally geeky, or just curled up together in pyjamas, laughing about her best moments. She wouldn’t want us to be crying. I close my eyes and focus on breathing in and out, grounding myself on the feel of her bracelet round my wrist. And if Cas’s hand finds mine when the priest stands up to start the service, well, maybe I need it just as much as he does.

 

* * *

 

Funerals aren’t for the dead. They are for the living. So that we who are left behind can get a semblance of closure on a life ended too soon. For the people who knew her, or thought they did, or wished they could. That’s why I am glad her parents did not ask me to speak; either I would direct my words at Charlie or at the congregation. Any eulogy I would write for her would be totally different to the version I would read aloud to her parents. I could never be deemed appropriate and true to her at the same time. And so, like so many other times, I chose silence. Charlie knew. She knew I loved her, knew I needed her, knew I would never recover if she left me. And it’s not like she would have heard me anyway.

 

* * *

 

Charlie’s mum has arranged for a kind of late lunch to be served at her house afterwards, thought mostly I think she just wants an excuse to get drunk and cry. Cas never leaves my side, and I can’t tell if it’s because he needs me or because he can tell how much I need him. After a few awful minutes of being told how hard it must be for us to lose a friend when we are all so young _as if we do not already know_ , Cas and I sneak upstairs to Charlie’s room. We sit, shoulder to shoulder, on her bed.

Cas starts to tell me stories. Stories about his life with Charlie. He tells me about the day they first met, when her mum was being neighbourly by bringing round brownies and Charlie just sat in the corner with her Gameboy and ignored everyone. And how the first thing she asked Cas was whether he liked Star Wars. How she read The Hobbit to him one Christmas holiday when he was sick and couldn’t leave his bed for three weeks. How she teased him mercilessly for once getting Luke and Han confused. It’s nice to talk about her as though she’s still…well, not alive exactly, more like _real_. We decide to marathon Star Wars the next weekend we’re both free, even starting with The Phantom Menace in her honour; she always maintained that canon-chronology was more important than less-sucky-chronology. 

Mum comes up to find us laughing over Charlie’s obsession with Hermione Granger and smiles wearily as she tells us that she’s taking Sam home and that we should probably start saying our goodbyes. As we leave, Cas unpins a charcoal drawing that I made of Charlie as Princess Leia from her cork-board.

“To remember her by,” he explains, before also taking the photo of the him and Charlie cosplaying Kirk and Bones at her birthday party the year before. I nod, thumbing the bracelet. I understand.

 

* * *

 

I don’t want to go home, not right away. We drive around for what feels like minutes but is actually hours. Comfortable silence is batted back and forth between us. We’re both thinking of Charlie; what else is there to think about? I feel like crying, but somehow wanting it so bad just means I can’t. Eventually I pull over next to a petrol station to fill up and buy something to eat. The night is warm, so Cas and I sit on the boot of the car sharing a tub of ice cream, his head on my shoulder.

“I don’t want to go home,” Cas announces suddenly into the growing darkness, “I don’t want to be alone.”

“No,” I reply quietly, “me neither.”

Silence falls over us for a moment or two.

“You can come and stay with me?” I offer, not even daring to hope that he might say yes.

“Really?” he turns his head to look at me, relief evident even that a single word. “Can I really?”

“Yeah, course, Cas. You’re always welcome, you know that.”

“Welcome doesn’t necessarily mean wanted,” he comments dryly, eyes dropping.

“You’re always wanted.” I feign nonchalance, but I know he can tell that it’s so much more than just politeness now. He looks straight at me, one eyebrow quirking up slightly, and I feel my pulse quicken. My tongue darts out to wet my bottom lip, slowly, and his eyes follow the movement before drifting back up to meet mine. 

“Come on,” I say, hiding how much my voice is shaking by clapping him too hard on the shoulder, leaving my hand there for just a little longer than absolutely necessary, “let’s go find you a mattress.”

He blinks twice, tilts his head in that adorable way that only he can, then nods and slides into the passenger seat.

 

* * *

 

The drive home is silent. He’s staring down at the photo, fingers brushing over Charlie’s face, but all I can think of is what just happened between us. Mostly trying to figure out what _did_ just happen between us. I know that if anyone else had looked at me the way Cas just did… Well, I’d assume they fancied me for a start. But this is Cas, my best friend Cas, and after all this time I still can’t believe he could possibly feel the same. That look though… It was desperate and needy and yet at the same time just so utterly _Cas_ that I couldn’t think of anything else.

We run by his house so he can tell his parents where he’ll be, pick up a toothbrush, and change into something a little more casual. In what seems like no time at all we’re pulling up outside mine and he’s jumping out, bag swinging almost excitedly as he almost runs to the front door. I follow at a far more mature pace, but I grin at him as I turn my key in the lock and let us in. After I’ve changed and we’ve set up a mattress next to my bed, we decide to watch a movie; both of us are too wired to sleep. We finally settle on Lord of the Rings because Cas claims it’s been too long since he’s last seen them. So I make popcorn while he finds the disc, and then we slump together on the sofa. I can’t seem to pay attention to the film, not when Cas is literally pressed right up next to me (we’re sharing popcorn, okay?!). And every few minutes he leans up to whisper in my ear little pieces of trivia or “I love this bit”. And his geeky squeals in the battle scenes would put Sam to shame. It’s actually kind of adorable, though of course I’d never say so. I have a hard time admitting it to myself, only succeeding by convincing myself that I would find Charlie adorable if she did the same thing, so it’s okay. He’s trying so hard to pretend that this is normal and that we didn’t just go to Charlie’s funeral, so I fake it too. If he can, I can. Boy, would she love to see us now though - I bet she’d tease us mercilessly. I smile sadly, imagining the look on her face. When the film ends we consider watching the next one, but Mum comes in and orders us upstairs. I strip off my jeans and just crawl onto the mattress like that. 

 

* * *

 

I lie there for what feels like hours, unable to sleep. I can hear Cas shifting around on my bed but I keep quiet, not wanting to wake him. I do sit up though and check my phone to see what time it actually is. 3.04am. Way too early and yet at the same time way too late. 

“Charlie?”

My head snaps round at the alien sound of her name on Cas’s tongue. 

“Cas?” I ask tentatively, unsure if he’s awake or dreaming. I switch on the dim bedside light and quickly take in the line of sweat on his forehead, the way his arms and legs are tangled in the covers. Nightmare.

“Charlie!” he shouts, and that’s when I decide that I have to wake him up. 

“Cas,” I say gently, shaking him. After a moment or two his eyes fly open and he clutches wildly at the air.

“Dean?” he says after he’s taken in his surroundings. His voice wobbles slightly.

“What were you dreaming about?” I ask, not sure if I want to know.

“Charlie. In the car. At the crash,” he whispers, sounding about five years old. “Oh Dean it was horrible.”

“I know, Cas, I know.”

Cas leans over suddenly and turns off the light. 

“Why d’you do that?” I ask.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” he replies, quietly. There are still a few inches between us, and in the soothing privacy of the midnight darkness I feel brave enough to cross them. My hand lands on his arm and as he leans into my touch I hear him muffle something that sounds vaguely like a sob.

“Oh, Cas,” I murmur and that’s enough for him to start crying, his head pressed against my chest, arms wrapped around my waist. My hand reaches up to stroke between his shoulder blades. My T-shirt is gradually getting wetter, but I don’t mind. 

 

* * *

 

Eventually Cas calms down, and he wipes away the last few tears with the back of his hand. 

“Dean, I’m so…”

“I swear if you freaking _apologise_ I will hit you. It’s fine, Cas, of course it’s fine.”

“Sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, don’t ask daft questions.” He giggles a little at that, tight and forced in the way you only can when you’re trying really hard not to cry. I hold him that much tighter.

“I guess you don’t want to, uh, sleep on your own?’ I ask and, although I can’t see him, I know that his eyes widen just a little at that. 

“No?” he replies, hopefully.

“Well, I’ll just have to stay here, then,” I reply. I sound like this was the easiest decision in the world, but inside I’m freaking out big time. Did I just offer to sleep with Cas? Like, how will be respond to that? Did I just overstep some boundary that places us firmly within Homosexual Territory? Also, am I overthinking this?

“Thank you,” he replies softly, his voice dispelling every doubt I had. There is love and gratitude in those two words, and I grin like an idiot, thankful again that I can see nothing but faint shadows. I pull us both down so that his head is still on my chest, and close my eyes. I feel his breathing start to slow, and the hand that was twisted into my shirt loosens slightly. And for the first time since the crash it’s not Charlie I’m thinking about as I drift off to sleep.

 

* * *

 

When I wake a few hours later, it takes me a few moments to realise where I am and exactly whose soft hair is tickling the underside of my chin. For a split second I think that it must be Charlie, but then I remember. And then I _remember_ , because it’s Cas. I smile, close my eyes and fall back asleep.


	7. Waking to see your almost-boyfriend-slash-best-friend soaked to the bone and changing in your room is by far not the worst way to start the day.

I wake far too few hours later to the muffled sound of Sammy’s almost demonic laughter and Cas poking my side gently.

“Ngggghhh,” I say, eloquently.

“Dean, wake up, it’s like 2pm.”

“Fuck off, I’m sleeping!” I mumble, but I sit up in bed anyway and start rub the sleep out of my eyes. It was a long night.

I look over at Cas to see that he is absolutely soaked.

“What the hell happened to you?” I ask, groggily.

“I appear to have spilled some water on my shirt.”

“Some? What did you do, shower with clothes on?” 

And doesn’t that put some lovely images in my head. Fuck, no, it’s too early in the goddam morning for _that_. And too soon after Charlie… I shake my head to clear it.

He rolls his eyes at me. “Don’t be silly. Your brother thought it would be funny to scare me. And I happened to be holding a glass of water at the time.” I snort with laughter, but stop when I see the look on his face; a mixture of vaguely embarrassed and heartbreakingly sad.

“Uh, do you want to borrow something? To change into?”

“Would you mind?”

“Nah, course not,” I smile wearily at him, then crawl out of bed to open my dresser. I pass him an old pair of sweatpants that are probably clean, then start searching for a shirt. I hear the the pull of a zip and the movement of fabric behind me, but I don’t register what it is until I have chosen an soft grey T-shirt and turned round to hand it to Cas. 

Castiel Novak is standing in nothing but a pair of boxers in my bedroom, bent over to pick up the sweatpants from the floor. He tugs them on while still facing away from me, then turns to find me quite clearly staring. _Wow, nice one, Dean_. 

“Shirt,” I say, sounding only marginally more articulate that a caveman.

“Thanks,” he replies, smiling at me warmly, tugging it over his head. There is no logical reason for my heart to thump in the way it does. He tugs my shirt over his head, and as it passes across his face I take a moment to appreciate just how attractive he actually is. This is the guy that I spent last night with. _Oh my_. I mean, it was only because of… you know… but still.

“Breakfast?” he asks, waving a hand in front of my face to snap me out of my daydream.

“Breakfast, food, yes,” I reply, shaking my head a little in an attempt to clear it of all Cas-related thoughts. Which fails the moment he raises an eyebrow at me and invites me to lead the way. I am so screwed.


	8. Back to school. Or should I say back in hell.

The first day back at school after the funeral is hell. Everyone is looking at me and Cas warily, as though we’re going to explode at any moment. Sam and Gabe too, but not to the same extent. They spend more time with each other than they do with us so 

I walk Cas to History and make him promise we’ll meet at lunch. I make sure to press my hand against his shoulder before I walk away to Art. He’s not alone and I won’t let him believe that he is. 

All my teachers smile kindly at me at the start of each lesson and give me The Look - a strange mixture of pity and sadness that makes me want to throttle them. They all say that they’re there for me if I want to talk and I just smile politely and thank them, holding my head high as I assure them that I’m fine, just fine. I don’t slip up once; Charlie would be proud of me.

The hours drag by, and by the time lunch comes all I can think of is avoiding everybody who isn’t Cas. He is waiting for me at the entrance to the cafeteria, bag clutched to his chest like a lifeline. I’ve never seen him more relieved than he does when he sees me. His bag swings down by his side and he runs at me. And in that moment he looks about five years old, eyes wide and almost spilling over with tears, hands shaking as they reach forward for mine. I would not deny him that, not ever, but especially not now in this moment of weakness. I would not deny him the comfort he seeks and so clearly needs. And okay, so I’m not being entirely selfless. I need him too.

“Oh, Dean, it’s horrible,” he whispers.

“I know, Cas, I know.”

We stand like that, his arms around my waist, mine around his shoulders, until my stomach rumbles.

“Let’s go get something to eat, huh?”

He nods, his nose brushing against my cheek. I don’t leave his side all the way up to when we sit down, the look on my face daring anyone to sit with us. Sam and Gabe look like they might join us but Sam seems to think better of it so they sit just close enough to be able to keep an eye on us. I know they are talking about her. I know they miss her too. 

Cas doesn’t speak again until the end of lunch. He just stares into space, not touching his food. I’m only picking at mine. We head off to English together, and without even thinking about it I slide in next to him. There’s no way I can stand to take my usual place next to Charlie’s empty chair. Gabe sits behind us, in my old seat, without a second thought. Mrs Milton doesn’t ask us if we’re okay, but she does leave us alone all class, and doesn’t even tell me off when I talk quietly to Cas, just looks at us sadly. I remember that if she hadn’t given Charlie detention, she’d still be here today. I wonder how much guilt she feels. I wonder if it’s anywhere near mine.


	9. Christmas and the New Year and Old Memories.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything in bold is saying which POV is being spoken. The first section is Dean, then Sam, then Dean again.  
> My apologies for this very short and slightly disjointed chapter, but I can't get it to work in a way I'm happy with so I've given up and I'm posting it anyway.  
> Please comment/kudos!

**Dean**

Christmas comes and goes without much cause for celebration, though God knows Mum tries her best. But I’m heartbroken and suffocating in guilt and Cas bursts into tears at the littlest things. He does come round with Gabriel on Christmas morning, claiming that everyone at their house is drunk and that they just wants a break. But Cas spends the entire time practically glued to my side and (as Mum so quaintly puts it that evening) a blind man could see that he was only there to see me. I didn’t quite know what to do, but apparently neither did he. We sat next to each other on the sofa, blankly watching the TV. I was so numb that I didn’t feel his head had fallen onto my shoulder until I realised I had leaned sideways to place my head on his. Not even Sammy and Gabe, sitting side by side on the other sofa, dared to comment, though they did smile sadly at us and roll their eyes.

 

* * *

 

**Sam**

“Heya Sam, hows Dean doing?” Gabe asks as he thumps his bag down on the table next to me. I’m round his house, again, because ever since Charlie was in that goddam crash we can’t seem to stop spending time with each other. Cas and Dean has commandeered all the sadness at our house, to the point where I feel guilty about being upset around them, so I’ve started going straight to Gabriel whenever I feel down. Sometimes we joke that we’re becoming as co-dependent as Cas and Dean are. Sometimes I wish it were more than that.

“Not good,” I sigh. “He misses her, so much. It hasn’t hit anyone as hard as it hit him. She was his best friend, you know?”

“Yeah, I know. How about Cas? He’s never home any more.”

“Almost as bad as Dean. He never speaks to anyone, just whispers in Dean’s ear. I haven’t heard his voice at all in the last month, although it seems like he never leaves our house. He can’t stand to be away from Dean.”

“When are they going to admit they’re in love?”

“Never. Or rather, not until they stop hurting so bad about Charlie, which may as well be never.”

“Yeah, I get it. I guess we should postpone operation ‘get Dean and Cas to bang’ then?”

“Ewww definitely,” I scrunch up my nose in almost-feigned disgust.

“Sorry, but that’s what Charlie called it, and the name kinda stuck. And I don’t want to change it now.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

Gabe rests his head on the table, the tips of his soft curls brushing the back of my hand.

“I just wish there was something we could do,” he sighs.

I do not reply.

“I miss her,” he mumbles into the table.

“Me too, Gabe,” I say, quietly, “me too.”

 

* * *

 

**Dean**

Sam and I spend New Year’s Eve with Gabriel and Cas. Well, I spend it with Cas, and Sam spends it with Dean. There's not much communication outside of those pairings because Cas is still having problems with speaking to people who aren't me and I don't want to take my eyes off of him, and Sam and Gabe are too busy sneaking glances at each other to really notice anything else that's going on.

There’s a fireworks display in the local park, so we make our way over there, wrapped in layer upon layer of coats and jackets and thermals. Cas looks somewhat like a snowman, something I hesitantly tease him about until he rolls his eyes and shoves into me. I slip an arm around his waist in an attempt at comfort, smiling when he leans into me.

About halfway through the display, the heavens open and we are instantly soaked. The fireworks are, of course, cancelled, and so we make our way home to change. Gabriel follows Sam into his room, declaring with a sly wink that he could never bear to change anywhere else, not while a gorgeous man like this was in the world. This make Sam blush furiously, which I decide not to point out because my teeth are chattering so badly I’m not sure I could actually get out a full sentence. So Cas comes with me and I find him some clothes to change into.

And all this reminds me, inexplicably, of Charlie. Cas voices this thought moments later.

“She’d have hated it,” I reply, slowly, “she’d have absolutely hated it. And complained about how much she hated being cold and wet and how we should have just listened to her and stayed home and watched Star Trek and never should have spent any time in the outside world at all.”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice catching slightly.

“So why,” I turn to him, “am I three breaths away from crying?”

There is a pause in which he only looks at me.

“Yeah,” he says, shakily.

We don’t sleep much that night, just curl around each other in an attempt at finding something in the gaping nothingness of her absence.


	10. They say we die twice.

I am curled up on my bed, a tangle of duvet and and limbs. It's been a long, hard day, filled with great gulping tears that were not loud enough to even begin to fill the silent emptiness that has settled in my chest. And then having to hide all of that from Cas because I cannot show him how much it hurts.

I didn’t hear Cas come in, but I know he is there by the steady ache of his breathing. I pretend I am asleep because I cannot talk to him now.

“Dean, stop faking,” Cas sighs, sounding so damn sad. I roll over.

“Faking?”

“Faking.”

“Faking sleep?” I ask.

"Not quite."

"What, then?"

“I mean stop saying you’re fine when you clearly are not fine.”

My mouth drops open and I start to formulate a sentence protesting, but then he just looks at me and I know that there’s no point in lying because he knows.

“How could you tell? No one else could.”

“I know you, Dean, and I can always tell. Always.” Cas looks up at me and smiles thinly. “Plus I look exactly the same as you, and I know that I’m faking.”

And that’s when I finally feel able to talk to him. Because if Cas is breaking just as badly as I am then maybe it’s okay. Maybe I’m allowed to be not coping. But of course it never occurred to me that I should say any of this out loud. So instead I did what any self-respecting idiot would do in a similar situation; I got angry.

“Okay, Cas. Fine. Let’s talk. Let’s talk about how sad it is that she’s gone and how we all miss her so terribly and how we’d give anything to have her back. The trouble with that, is that it won’t bring her back. Because nothing can bring her back.” I am vaguely aware that I am shouting, but Cas doesn’t seem to mind. In fact he’s gazing at me with so much sorrow and so much understanding that it stops me in my tracks. I hadn’t noticed how close we were but now I am utterly, acutely aware of every breath he takes. He sits next to me, places his arms around my shoulders and holds me tight.

“Oh, Dean,” he whispers, “everyone has been so preoccupied with me. How long have you been breaking where no one could see you?”

We sit there for a long time. 

“What do we do know?” I ask.

“They say that we die twice,” Cas says quietly. “Once when we stop breathing and the second when someone says our name for the last time.” 

I look up at Cas, his face made wobbly by the tears in my eyes, as he finishes his sentence with something resembling the determined stubbornness he used to have. 

“We’re going to make sure she never has to die twice.”


	11. We were so close to having a happy chapter. So goddam close.

Today is a good day.

I’m in my room, sketching quietly, radio turned up loud. I hear someone come up the stairs, and turn the volume down just as the door opens.

“Dean?”

“Hey Cas,” I reply, an easy smile automatically making its way onto my face. He doesn’t reciprocate.

“You okay?” I ask, concerned.

“Your Mum found this in her room.”

“What is it?”

“A letter. Addressed to us.” I vaguely recognise the handwriting, but it feels like something remembered only from a distant memory or a long-forgotten dream. 

“What does it say?”

“You should probably just read it.”

“Well. Hand it over then.” He does so.

“I’ll be downstairs, for when you’re done,” he says. I wait for him to close the door before eagerly unfolding the letter.

 

_Dear Castiel and Dean._

_I have instructed Dean’s Mum to give this letter to you once you return from the cinema, so I am of course writing this ahead of time. Please excuse any time-related mistakes that I make because of that. My time-machine is, of course, not quite finished yet._

_So. By the time you read this, you will have seen a movie together. You will probably still be treating each other like everything’s normal. But let me tell you this - things have changed. You are in love, god you’ve been in love for like forever. But neither of you will admit it without a little help, so this is me just giving you a little push in the right direction._

_Each of you have told me on separate occasions that you like the other, and I know you well enough to recognise when you are lying. You do not just like each other, you are IN LOVE with each other. Please excuse my use of capitalisation, but that was important. YOU ARE IN LOVE. Got it?_

_You have my blessing to now make out and have hot sex as much as you like. But you both owe me for making this happen, because let’s be totally honest, neither of you would ever have made the first move. I think payment in chocolate would be appropriate._

_All my love to you both,_

_Charlie xx_

 

It’s like a punch in the stomach. A low, dull, aching pain. It’s no more than I deserve.

I don’t go downstairs. I can’t face Cas. I can’t tell him how much I want him and how much I know I don’t deserve it. I hear footsteps on the stairs, so I lie down on my bed and close my eyes, holding tight to Charlie’s letter like a lifeline. The door opens and even before he speaks I know it’s Cas.

“You could at least have had the decency to tell me you weren’t interested. I’m not saying we should try just for her sake, for her memory alone, but can you really tell me that none of this meant anything to you? If I started counting the number of times I thought you were going to kiss me I’d soon run out of fingers. And I’d run out even faster if I counted the number if times I’ve wanted you to.”

“That’s not why, Cas,” I say, still obstinately facing the wall. “I just can’t.” 

“Tell me.” 

“It won’t change anything.”

“You can’t know that until you try.”

“Maybe I do.”

“Come on, Dean, just open up to me. Please.”

“For fucks sake, Cas, just get out of my room.”

“Not until you explain! God, just say _something_! You can’t just shut me out!”

“You have no right to expect answers from me.”

“I thought…”

“Well, you know what, Castiel? You thought wrong.”

“Dean, please.”

“Just get out. Get out now.”

“Is it… is it because it’s me?” There is so much raw pain in his words that my eyes fly open. But still I don’t speak. Not even when he exhales shakily. Not even when the door clicks quietly shut.

Fuck.

Today is not a good day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am so so sorry. I promise it gets happy soon.


	12. Yet another bad day.

I assumed I would be alone at lunch again today. Cas and I are still not talking, because I'm an idiot, and I don’t fancy sitting with Gabe and Sammy. Not just because of the pointed looks they give me whenever they talk about Cas, but also the looks they give each other when they think I’m not paying attention, deep looks full of raw emotion.

But today Sammy is sick and so Gabe has decided to sit with me. He reaches over and takes a handful of crisps out of the bag in my hand.

“Those are mine,” I point out.

“Yeah? They’re good.” I roll my eyes. It occurs to me that I haven’t spoken to Gabe in weeks and I almost feel sad about that. We were pretty close before Charlie… And he is fun to be around when he’s not shamelessly fake-flirting with Sam in some attempt to pretend that he doesn’t actually want to be real-flirting with Sam.

“So, what’s going on with you and Cas?”

I look over to where he’s sitting, alone, not touching his lunch.

“Nothing.” 

“Bullshit!” he exclaims, slamming his hand down on the table. “You’re not talking, you’re both obviously miserable, what the hell happened?”

“Nothing.”

“He started hurting himself again,” Gabe says, and that’s enough to snap me out of pretending that I don’t give a shit.

“Thought that’d get your attention,” Gabe sighs, rubbing his forehead tiredly. “He’s started counselling and it’s really helping, but the truth is he can’t cope with losing both Charlie and you.”

I shake my head. “He’s better off without me.”

“No. No, Dean, he’s not.”

I glance over to see that Cas is looking at me. He turns away almost immediately, but I don’t. I notice for what should not be the first time how pale he is, the bandage on his left wrist, the bags under his eyes. Broken. He looks broken.

“Just talk to him?” Gabe is saying.

And that’s when I put my shield back up again. I turn back to Gabriel.

“I don’t know why you think you have some kind of right to pry into my life, okay? Just because we used to be friends and you happen to be in love with my kid brother, doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do.”

“I’m not in love with him,” Gabe says, darkly.

“Could have fooled me. And him, for that matter. He has noticed, and one day he’ll confront you about it, and we both know you won’t be able to say no.”

“It… It’s not like that. And Sam doesn't know.”

I merely raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, shut it, Dean.”

“Why should I?” I shrug.

“We both know it’s the truth.”

I know I’m being a jerk, but I _am_ miserable and Gabe’s the nearest target. What I don’t expect, however, is for his fist to come flying towards me and hit me square on the jaw. I don’t even have time to respond before he’s got up and walked away, shouldering his back angrily. I rub at it (that boy sure can hit) before smiling sadly and turning back to my lunch. I deserved that. I am about to take the first bite before I am interrupted again.

“Dean?”

Cas. Fuck. I studiously ignore him, as though a soggy chicken sandwich is suddenly the most intriguing thing in the universe and only by staring at it can I discover all its fascinating secrets.

“Okay,so I get you’re mad with me,” he begins, then stops short. “Actually, no, I don’t get it. I have no idea what I’ve done that means you refuse to talk to me.”

Yeah, me neither. I’m just an idiot. And also stubborn, so don’t expect anything to change any time soon.

“But I miss you. A lot.”

Oh, Cas. I miss you too. More than I should. Why would you say that? More to the point, why am I still sitting here? I should just get up and walk away and carry on ignoring you.

“And I was wondering if you were free to hang out on Friday, like we used to.”

Sorry, no, I’ll be lying alone in my room despising myself, making no noise, and pretending that I don’t exist. Or rather, wishing I didn’t.

He waits longer than I thought he would. But eventually he sighs sadly and walks away. I expect he’ll try again soon. Or not. Maybe this time he’s actually got the message. Once I’m sure he’s left, I put my sandwich back in its plastic packaging and leave the cafeteria, dropping it into the bin on my way out. I wasn’t really hungry anyway.


	13. Dean's not quite as much an idiot in this chapter as he was in the previous ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rating on this fic is going up, due to a scene in this chapter :)

Missing someone is always hard. Especially when they’re right there in front of you and there really is no reason as to why you should have to miss them at all.

Mum and Sam are out, and I’ve just been lying here in a pool of self-loathing that started even before Cas came in and asked me _why the fuck I’m still ignoring him and can’t I just tell him what he did wrong and actually he knows very well he’s done nothing wrong so what the fuck is wrong with me_.

I ignore him because I have no words left to use. He slumps against the wall, legs only just holding him up.

“Is this what Charlie would have wanted? You ignoring me because you’re too goddam scared of deserving anyone?”

His words cut into me. I twist around angrily, and it’s like every last wall I ever built between us comes crashing down and I’m shouting for all the world to hear. 

"I'm so broken on the inside that I don't even know how to start going about fixing myself. God, I don't even believe I deserve to be fixed, because I did nothing to save her. Not a damn thing. And it was all my fault, Cas. And now she's lying in a coffin under the ground and it's all my fault. So I'm laughing it off, pretending everything’s just fine and it's getting so convincing that even I can't tell the difference anymore. I'm lost, Cas, so fucking lost and I don't know how to find my way again, so I'm coping the only way I know how. By hiding away and throwing myself into my art and silence and pushing away you and everyone else I care about in this godforsaken planet and hoping everything will just go away. Because facing my feelings is so unsafe that sometimes I can barely breathe because of it."

His eyes are full of pity and I have to suppress the urge to punch him or kiss him or _something_ just to get him to stop looking at me like that. Anything would be better. Anger wells in the pit of my stomach and I clench my fist.

“Dean, let me help you,” he says simply and I cannot look at him because I do not deserve the care that is written across his face. My eyes fall on the charcoal sketch of him I drew all those months ago, when Charlie was still... My eyelids slam shut and I bite back the scream that is threatening to erupt through my lips.

“You can’t fix this, Cas,” I manage to choke out.

"Dean," Cas says again, all pity replaced by hard determination, and I feel the bed shift as his weight settles beside me. "Let me fix you."

My eyes fly open as I feel a rough, callused hand on my cheek and despite every good intention I have about keeping him safe by keeping away, I instinctively move towards him.

"Cas, I..."

"Shut up," he whispers, so quiet that I wonder if he’s even talking to me, "just shut up before I stop or change my mind." 

Cas takes in a deep breath and then moves his head towards me. I don't pull back. I cannot. I am grounded by his fingers grazing the stubble on my jawline, and the way I find myself leaning into his touch. His lips trace the ghost of a kiss against mine. My breathing hitches as he opens those brilliant, blue eyes and I’m drowning all over again, but I don't feel lost anymore. I feel safe. And there is so much adoration written all over his features that I almost feel like I deserve to be saved. 

"Okay?" he asks nervously.

"Okay," I breathe, so he moves forward to capture my lips properly. We start chaste and simple, but far too soon and not soon enough his tongue flickers out, requesting entrance with a soft pressure at the centre of my mouth. I give a surprised moan as I allow him in. I can taste coffee and chocolate and pure Castiel as our kisses become increasingly dirty and open and I find myself gasping at the beautifully frustrating utter lack of friction. This is exactly what I’ve always wanted, always needed. _Oh God Cas yes there right there fuck don’t stop don’t ever stop._ I’m not entirely sure how much of this I’m saying out loud, and I really don’t have enough willpower left to give a fuck.

"Like that, do you?" he murmurs as he slides onto my lap and presses me down onto the cool covers with a moan that’s so goddam filthy my heart nearly stops. I start to think up a sarcastic comeback but then he is on top of me, his mouth and tongue mercilessly attacking mine, and I suddenly can't think at all.

 

* * *

 

"I don't want to be another notch on your bedpost, Dean," he whispers in my ear as he lies curled around me that night, wearing borrowed boxers and a T-shirt. 

"You're not, God, Cas, you could never just be that." 

Knowing full well that words could never be enough, I graze my lips up his neck, trying to say ‘I love you’ with every touch of skin on skin. He relaxes beneath me, finally, eyelids fluttering closed as I find his lips again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT FINALLY HAPPENED.  
> I'm so excited :D :D  
> Please comment!!! :D


	14. Ours is a quiet now.

It’s been a month now since Cas and I started this… thing. Whatever it is. Dating somehow doesn’t seem like the right word, although certainly we go on dates. And they’re fucking amazing. But relationship is too big and serious for something that is basically just an extension of the friendship we’ve had for over four years. I like this. I like waking up with him. I like watching him and knowing that I can. I like holding his hand under the table at lunch once I’ve finished eating and laughing as he tries to eat with only one hand. I like the sex too, don’t get me wrong the sex is fucking incredible, but I like everything else more.

When we told Sam and Mum, they just rolled their eyes and said, together, “Finally,” and then moved on, albeit with grins spread across their faces. Which was surprising, although not altogether unwelcome. I’m not sure I could have handled more. But then, maybe they knew that. Telling Gabriel was less fun. He punched me, again. But it wasn’t entirely undeserved.

When we’re together, I feel like I’ve never been happier. And when we’re apart I’m overwhelmed by a shattering combination of guilt and fear. Guilt because I now think about Cas more than Charlie. Fear because I know that this cannot last and I do not deserve it to last and I want it to last more than anything else in the world. 

But for now we are together on our front porch, and I am content to sit quietly in this moment. Ours is a quiet now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short drabble of happiness for y'all.  
> I know it's not much, but I feel it maybe starts to make up for the heartbreak I've forced y'all through? :P  
> Please comment/kudos :)


	15. Awww look at them being all cute and adorable ^.^ See, this is what happens when I'm nice to the characters, you get short-but-super-fluffy chapters ^.^

We are together again, this time in my bedroom. And we’re discussing our brother’s sex life. Which, trust me, is not something I want to be doing, but Sam keeps giving these little sad smirks every time he sees me and Cas, and yeah, okay, maybe I want him to be as happy as I am. And Gabe makes him happy, any idiot could see that. But when I broach the topic with Cas, he just looks confused. 

“Sam and Gabriel? What about them?”

“I conservatively estimate that they have gazed longingly into each other’s eyes a million times over the past week. You mean you really haven’t noticed?”

“Conservatively?”

“Trust me, it seems like it never stops. But Sam’s too stuck in his ways as a supposed heterosexual, and Gabe likes him too much to risk anything on a hunch.”

“So, we need to get them together?”

“Yeah, asap, it’s starting to get painful.”

“For you?”

“Well, Gabe’s always round ours, and they spend so much time in the front room making loud noises and play fighting. At least if they were having sex they’d be upstairs and it’d be quieter.”

Cas spits out his drink and makes a face. “Ewww, Dean, that was not an image I needed.”

“Me neither, kid, me neither, but we gotta do something about it.”

“Lock them in a broom cupboard maybe?”

“Yeah, that would work…” I muse, then look over to see him laughing at me.

“We have to just let them work it out on their own,” he says, “ just trust me.”

“Fine. But if they take longer than a couple more months we’re totally locking them in a broom cupboard.”

He rolls his eyes, then leans forward to peck me on the cheek.

“Why do I let you talk me into things like this?”

“Cos you love me,” I retort, then push him back onto the bed to remind him exactly why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me being nice to the characters ^.^ I feel almost proud of myself.  
> Don't worry, it won't last *muahahahaha*  
> Please comment/kudos :)


	16. John Winchester is a total rat-bastard.

Cas and I are halfway through a study date (emphasis more on the date than the study) when my phone vibrates from across the room.

“Cas, someone’s calling me,” I say, in between moans.

“Forget about it,” he whispers, kissing the words into my collar bone, and so I let him distract me. But then it vibrates again. And again. And then beeps with a text. So, reluctantly, I drag myself away from Cas (who pouts adorably) to retrieve it.

_Dean, I need you to come home. Now. Please._

“Who’s that from?” 

“Mum,” I reply, showing it to him along with a worried look. 

“I can drive you?” he offers, but I shake my head.

“It’s only 2 blocks, I’ll walk.”

“Okay, well I’ll come with you then.”

“Alright,” I smile at him, warmly.

 

* * *

 

When Cas and I arrive at our house I can see Sam sitting on our front step, his head against the front porch. He jumps up and runs towards us when he sees us coming down the road.

“Dad’s home,” he says, breathless. I automatically stiffen, stand up straighter.

“What? How can he be home?”

“Apparently he’s just been busy for 15 years,” Sam replies darkly, obviously just as thrilled to see him as I am.

“Fuck,” I say.

“My thoughts exactly.”

And then I remember Cas. Oh God this is not good, this is very very not good.

“Cas, you need to go.”

“What?”

“You need to go, you can’t go anywhere near him.”

“Don’t be daft, let me come with you,” he almost pleads.

“No. You can’t.”

“Why not?”

“He’ll… You just can’t, okay?” I close my eyes for a second. I know what I have to say. I know what will make him leave. And I hate myself for it.

Cas,” I say, quietly. “I don’t want you here.”

He looks at me for a moment not bothering to disguise the hurt that settles across his face, before throwing up his arms in frustration and storming off down the road.

“I can’t win with you, can I?” he shouts.

“I’m sorry,” is all I can say, “it really is better this way.”

“Better for who, Dean?” he yells as he rounds the corner.

“Why did you do that?” Sam asks quietly.

“Because I don’t want Dad anywhere near him. He’ll know, as soon as he sees us together he’ll figure it out. And while Mum doesn’t care, he will.”

“How can you know that?”

“Because I knew him.”

 

* * *

 

We walk into the kitchen, Sam one step behind me. Funny how quickly we fall back into old rhythms even though he was far too young to remember. Mum is standing next to the fridge, arms folded across her chest, her expression unforgiving. Good.

“Son!” Dad says, moving towards me with a smile I’ve never seen on his face before and don't expect to see again. He smells of whisky and cigarettes, but I shake his hand just the same. No reason to create an argument when one isn’t needed.

“Dad,” I reply, trying my best not to sound more confrontational than is completely necessary. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area and I thought I’d pop in to see how you were getting along!” I glance at the two empty bottles on the counter and wonder how much else he’s had to drink. 

“You’re about 15 years too late for that, John,” Mum says harshly. 

“Look, Mary, I know I left but I’m here now, aren’t I? I could have not turned up at all.”

“That would have been preferable, actually,” she replies. I wince; now is really not the time to antagonise him. To my relief, Dad just chuckles and pats her shoulder affectionately. 

“Oh, you always were a joker!” It’s pretty clear he’s too drunk to notice how much hatred is in her eyes, but I shoot her a look anyway. _Be careful_.

“I think you should leave, John.”

“Leave? But I’ve only just got here!”

“I think you should leave.”

He takes a step towards her, his voice low and dangerous now.

“You wouldn’t turn me away so easily, now would you, Mary? Surely you can get your pretty little head around the fact that it would be very… unwise to send me away.”

I have never been more proud of my Mum than when she raises her head a little and simply restates, “I think you should leave. Preferably before the cops get here, but I’m open to that option too.”

“Cops?”

“Oh, I’ve already notified them to your arrival here. And how much you’ve had to drink. And that you drove here. I think they’ll want to have more than a few words with you. Plus the officer I’ve called is one of my closest friends and she knows every goddam thing you ever did to us.”

I can see Dad’s eyes bulging and his face going red, so I place a hand around Sam’s shoulders protectively.

“You can’t stop me seeing my boys,” he says.

“No,” she admits, “but I can damn well assure you that they won’t want anything to do with you.”

Dad looks over at us and I clench my jaw.

“Dean? Sam?”

“I think you should leave,” I say, and I see Mum half-smile in pride out of the corner of my eye.

“You think you’re so smart, don’t you? Oh, boy, you’ll regret that.”

The sound of a car pulling up doesn’t even make Dad flinch. He’s a good actor; I’ll give him that. And when Jody Mills comes in, smiling gently at Mum before requesting that he comes with her, Dad simply says, “yes ma’am,” and winks at Sam. Sam just glares back, and I squeeze his shoulders gently.

She takes Dad away, but I don’t hear Mum breath out until the car has passed out of our sight.

“I thought he was going to hit you, Mum,” Sam says quietly.

“So did I,” Mum replies.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” I say, my voice shaking a little.

There is a pause in which we all catch our breath.

“You need to explain to Cas what happened,” Sam calls out to me as I make my way out of the kitchen door.

“Where else did you think I was going?” I shout back.

 

* * *

 

“So. Was it nice to see your Dad,” Cas says stiffly when I walk into his room.

“No, not really.”

“Oh?’ he replies, but I can tell he’s mad at me and I can tell he doesn’t really care.

“He left 15 years ago for a woman younger than my Mum but in no way better. Turned out he’d been seeing her for the best part of 3 years when he finally manned up and left. Sammy was only 2 which meant that all the time Mum was pregnant and looking after him, Dad was off with someone else. We heard that they’d married, but I guess it didn’t last, since he’s back. No surprise there. He used to beat Mum. He used to beat me. The only reason he never touched Sam was because I didn't let him. God, Cas, I spent half my childhood taking punches for my kid brother and then watching him patch me up afterwards. I didn’t want him anywhere near you, and I figured it was better to hurt your feelings than have _him_ hurt _you_.”

A look of understanding passes between us, a mutual understanding of how crap families really can be. He takes a step towards me, and I hold out my hand to him. He takes it.

“I’m so sorry,” Cas says, simply.

“Yeah. Me too.”


	17. Oh look I broke them again

Cas stands in front of me, hands clenched tight, eyes narrowed, a stream of well-deserved insults and expletives on his lips.

We fight more than love now.

It started on the anniversary of the crash they put Charlie in hospital and I snuck away from him in the early hours of the morning to cry alone, screaming at him when he found me that _I don’t want you to be here, I don’t need you Cas, just leave and never come back_. The second time I said those words. They hurt me just as much. We don’t see eye to eye on anything anymore. 

The angry sex is a filthy mix of being beaten roughly to a pulp and tasting heaven. We don’t sleep together anymore. We don’t hold hands. We don’t hug. We sometimes talk, but never about anything important. But still we fuck. Never make love. And the arguments are like hell. Sometimes I think he comes over to see me simply so we can fight. Throwing words at each other like bombs. Rarely throwing punches, but then we collapse on each other, biting and sucking and gripping. Lips crashing together in a whirlwind of pain. And in a sick sick way it actually makes me feel better. I feel like I am deserving of this pain in a way I never felt I deserved having us when we were not broken. I have watched as the scars on his arms became scabs, became fresh cuts, became more and more frequent, and i do not say anything because I do not have the right to tell him to stop. It would be hypocritical, really, because this relationship is hurting us both more than any blade could.

His skin is cold against my hands as I slam him against the wall.

“Dean,” he says, calm as anything, hands still tightly folded into fists, eyes now closed.

I cannot move, not even to breathe, my hands digging into his shoulders.

“Dean,” he says again.

I start crying, burying my face into his neck. His arms come around my shoulders and I sob quietly into him. He shakes once and then is crying too, his hot tears running their course down his cheeks and then dripping miserably onto mine. We are unhappy. We are not okay. But we are addicted to this hurt and we are broken less as a pair than we would be alone and so we cannot stop.


	18. Gabriel, how did you know that you were gay?

_Dear Gabriel,_

_I’m in love with y…_

 

_Dear Gabriel_

_I know that we’re best friends but I want more than…_

 

_Dear Gabriel,_

_Please would you get off your lazy-yet-perfectly-sculpted ass and come over here and fuck me into this table until I scream and…_

 

No, no, and oh god definitely no.

This is the hardest letter to write, ever. Maybe I should just talk to him. But, like, how would that conversation go? 

_“Oh, hi Gabe, I’ve been in love with you ever since you first spoke to me and I’ve wanted to fuck you ever since you first wrapped your perfectly sinful lips around that goddam lollipop and winked at me so please can we have sex now.”_

_“Sure Sammy, let me just fetch the lube, oh and I love you too.”_

I think not.

Fuck.

 

* * *

 

We’re in the kitchen a few days later when I finally pluck up the courage to talk to him about it. He’s sitting with his feet up on the table, I’m standing in the corner by the fridge. I know he’s watching me, but I resolutely stare out of the window until I’m ready to ask him. Man, this is the most awkward thing I’ve ever done. Ever.

“Hey, Gabe?”

“Yeah, what?”

“How did you know that you were…”

“That I was what?”

“You know…” I wave my hands, gesturing to all of him in a way that doesn’t explain anything at all. Come on, Sam, you’re better than this. _Form. A. Coherent. Sentence_.

“Uh, no, I don’t because you haven’t made any references to whatever it is you were talking about,” Gabe smirks at me, “just spit it out!”

“Gay.”

“What?”

“How did you know you were gay?” Gabe gives me the oddest look before lowering his head to stare at his twisting hands and replying quietly.

“I fell in love, Sammy, and the person I fell in love with was male. It wasn’t that complicated.”

And, come on, there really is only one logical follow up question to that, so I ask it.

“Who did you fall in love with?” Gabe’s head snaps up.

“You… You don’t know?”

“Uh, no?”

There is a not-at-all-awkward pause while a look of badly disguised hope flits briefly across his face. 

“You really don’t know?” 

I shake my head slowly. He stands up suddenly and takes a few steps towards me, the way you might corner a frightened animal to make sure it doesn’t escape. He licks his lips nervously and it crosses my mind that this is the first time I’ve ever seen Gabe unsure of himself. It’s also the first time that I’d even considered the possibility that he might actually like me back, and now it seems like that’s exactly what is happening right in front of me right now and oh god there are no words to describe the way this feeling has bubbled up inside me. He’s just near enough now that if it were anyone else I’d be complaining about a complete lack of personal space. Too close and yet at the same time nowhere near close enough.

“What?” I ask, my voice coming out way way way huskier and deeper than I planned. But the clearly-surprised-and-vaguely-aroused look on Gabe’s face is so worth it. I can almost feel the…

Gabe and I jump apart as Dean barges his way into the room. I glare at him.

“What?” he asks, vaguely confused and clearly a long way from caring. He and Cas probably had another argument.

“Your timing _sucks_ ,” I inform him, shooting him the nastiest look I can. He blinks, totally nonplussed, and makes his way to the fridge. 

“Gabe?” Cas calls out from the other room, clearly furious about something and I glance at Dean to see he’s staring resolutely out of the window, beer already in hand.

“Yeah?” Gabe replies.

“If you want a lift home, we’re leaving now.”

“But, Cas…”

“No arguments.”

Gabe looks at me, frustration clearly written all over his face, then storms out. 

“I hate you,” I hear him say to Cas.

“Well you’re not the only one,” is Cas’s sarcastic reply as the front door bangs shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Sabriel is totally almost a thing. Yay! :)  
> Although I apologise for the current state of Dean and Cas.  
> Please kudos/comment :)
> 
> EDIT: Also, I will most likely not be updating tomorrow because it's A level results day and I need to be sorting that out (read: panicking and possibly phoning up universities begging them to let me in, depending on my grades). Also, I haven't actually written the next chapter yet. Oops?


	19. They're resting in the eye of the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I am a terrible person it's been like 2 months since I last updated I promise I still love you and today you'll get two chapters but then it will be ages until I next update because this is the end of book 2 so I need to start writing book 3. I've had a whole load of family shit and then I started uni and things have just been pretty hectic. I do apologise most sincerely. I still love you all.  
> All my love,  
> so_get_this xxxxxxxxxxx

“Hold on tight,” Cas whispers in my ear, and then he pulls me back and up before pushing as hard as he can. I swing forward, my feet barely grazing the grass, before I kick them up at the sky.

We are at the park and the clock on my phone has just marked the passing of midnight. Cas has run around to stand in front of me, and he is laughing. I cannot remember the last time I saw him laugh so easily.

“Now let go!” he says excitedly, holding out his arms to me. So I do. For a beautiful, glorious moment I am flying. I feel invincible. I feel infinite.

And then I collide with Cas and we tumble to the ground in a tangle of flailing limbs and his lips find mine and this is better than flying. I am drunk on this moment, drunk on the taste of freedom in each and every kiss. Making out in a children’s playground at midnight? Whatever would Charlie say. Probably just a sweet and simple _I told you so_. I smile into the crook of Cas’s neck, which has fast become my favourite place. I kiss him there, wet and open-mouthed, and he giggles.

We are young and in love and nothing can stop us. Until it does.

It never occurred to me when Castiel turned up on my doorstep at midnight that anything was wrong. Perhaps it should have. Perhaps if I’d been paying a little more attention, I would have noticed that the past few days had been his best few days since Charlie died. Perhaps I would have felt the extra pressure and force he put into our kisses, the urgency, as though he knew we were running out of time. Perhaps even if I had noticed I would have just smiled to myself and hoped that this meant he was getting a little better. Perhaps perhaps perhaps. It’s just like wishing, really. Nothing can ever come of it. Nothing can ever change.

 

* * *

 

When I get home dawn has just broken. Cas pushed me up against the wall of the house and kissed me so fiercely and with such intent that I am struggling not to run after him and push him into the ground, even as I am struggling to keep my eyes open. I crawl into bed, dizzy on Cas, and for the first time since the crash I don’t dream about Charlie.

_I am standing in Cas’s room, he is sitting on the bed. He is looking up at me with such great pain and desperation in his eyes. And I know, in the way that you just_ know _things in dreams, that he has given up on her, that he has forgotten her, that he no longer sees breathing as an advantage. And I am angrier than I’ve ever been, angrier than I will ever be._

_“I thought we were in this together, Cas. I thought we were coping together. Come on, Cas, this is quitting, this is giving in, and we. Don’t. Give. In.”_

_“I’m sorry,” he whispers._

_It’s terrifying seeing the look in his eyes; it’s like looking in a mirror. And even here, in the dizziness between life and dreaming, I know without a doubt that there is nothing worse than looking into someone’s eyes and knowing you are not enough to make them stay._


	20. I don't think you'll ever forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again I do apologise for taking so long to update, but here is the last chapter of Book the Second.   
> I love you all.   
> Please comment/kudos! :)  
> so_get_this xxxxxxx

When I wake, screaming, it’s midday and Sam is sitting on the end of my bed, hands poised to grab me if I try anything stupid.

“Cas?” is the first word out of my mouth. Sam just rolls his eyes.

“He came by an hour or so ago. Even made his way up here, but when he saw you were still asleep he just whispered something in your ear, sounded like ‘I’m sorry’?” Sam shrugs. “I guess you guys are fighting again?”

I frown, because we have never been further from fighting.

“And then he gave me this to give to you, and left.” Sam continues, waving a folded piece of paper at me. “But try not get too excited, now, he’s probably just apologising again for whatever argument you had and then declaring his undying love to you.”

“Shut up and just give that here, will you?”

I wait until Sam has left the room before tearing open the envelope.

 

_Dean,_

_I’m sorry. I think that this will hurt you more than anyone, but I can’t do this anymore. I just can’t. I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me, but I won’t be hurt if you don’t. Even you are not enough to make me want to stay. Charlie would have hated me for this, but I cannot bring myself to care. I miss her too much and it’s destroying me from the inside out._

_I love you, Dean, I really do love you. Try to forgive me. I flatter myself, but I don’t think you’ll ever forget._

_Yours,_

_Cas_

 

It only takes me a second to come to my senses, and I run as fast as I can, but it’s already too late. Only one thought is pounding in my head. I could have predicted this. I _should_ have predicted this. Yet again I have failed a friend, first Charlie and now Cas, and oh God it hurts. Knowing that you are not good enough always does, although you’d think I’d be used to it by now. I’m all set to get down on my knees and tell him that he’s not weak, that he’s the bravest person I know and I love him for it, that I’m breaking at much as he is and he’ll never be alone as long as I’m breathing. But by the time I reach his house the ambulance has already come and gone. Gabe gives me the news, shaking in the front room. My world falls apart yet again, set in motion by a bottle of pills.


End file.
